Freckles
by britishtoatea
Summary: 2PFr/2pUk. 2p France counts 2p England's freckles. England haaaaaaaates it.


Arthur had been tricked, deceived… betrayed… And… Betrayed by Francis… Francis, whom he loved and had trusted so completely with everything he was, had trusted with all his secrets and shared his body with in so many intimate encounters. Yes, Francis had betrayed him, sat upon his lower back, pinned his arms down with his strong, large hands as Arthur flailed and writhed beneath him.

"F-Francis! Stop!" This was so… mortifying for him, why had Francis even_wanted_ this? What would it prove? Why did he have to be so fascinated with the one thing Arthur found so repulsive about himself?

Francis just gripped his wrists tighter, "Nope." Arthur struggled only a moment longer before he accepted his fate, went still beneath the Frenchman. This wasn't fair…

Arthur heard the distinct sound of a lighter being flicked, followed soon by the smell of smoke. "Francis… You'd better not burn me…" He was answered with chuckle, then a kiss to his shoulder. Francis other hand gripped Arthur's wrists tightly.

There was a cigarette perched between Francis' lips as he began, his rough pointer finger resting upon the nape of Arthur's neck and he began. "Un, deux, trois, quatre, cinq, six…." His finger touched each one as he counted, and the number raised higher and higher.

Arthur was mortified. This couldn't be happening… Why did he have to count out loud? Was this some form of torture? His cheeks were flushed as he buried his face into the pillow and whimpered. This was _not _what Arthur had pictured when Francis had whispered in his ear earlier in the day. Not at all… How was he to know that, "I'm going to pin you down, touch you until you beg for me to stop. I want to see you squirm." Had really meant, "I'm going to count each and every freckle on your body, just to make you die of embarrassment."

Really… How was he to know that's what Francis had meant? He had been all excited about this too, had expected a tumble in the sheets, passionate love making and bruising kisses… Not… _this_.

" soixante seize… soixante dix-sept…" And Francis was only on his left shoulder… He hadn't even touched his right. Arthur couldn't help the whimper that leaked from his throat at that. He hadn't known there were so many…

He felt Francis shift atop him, lean over to put out his cigarette in the ashtray beside the bed, only to return, center himself on Arthur's back once more. Arthur's body trembled, and Francis dipped down, peppered kisses along the nape of Arthur's neck, down his shoulder.

"Hmm… Lost count…" Arthur grit his teeth, bucked his hips, tried to throw the Frenchman off him. "No! Nononononononononononono! Stop it!" Francis held on tight, waited for Arthur to once again calm down, to stop struggling, before starting again. This must really be awful for Arthur.

Francis knew just how sensitive the younger blonde he was sitting upon was about his freckles. He didn't really understand why. They were just freckles. He began again, traced his finger along each one when he heard it, a small, insignificant sniffle from Arthur. He raised a brow. Was Arthur… crying? Fuck… Now he'd done it.

"Hey… Stop that… I was just kidding…" Arthur didn't respond, just sniffled again. Oh boy… He'd really upset him this time. Francis scooted off the blonde, released his hold on his wrists and leaned down. Yep… those were tears. The guilt hit him right in the gut. He _hated_ making Arthur cry. "Arthur… come on now… I was only kidding… It was a joke…"

Arthur flashed Francis a glare, reached down for the covers and pulled them up over his body, rolled on his side, facing away from the Frenchman beside him, hid under the blanket. How DARE Francis do that to him… humiliate him like that. He drew his knees up to his chest, wrapped his arms around himself. "Leave me alone…"

Francis took a breath, lit another cigarette and sighed. "Arthur… It was a joke…" Arthur responded with silence. Francis ran a hand through his hair and huffed. He could be so stubborn sometimes… and now he was crying. What a pain…

Francis reached over, pulled the blanket off Arthur and tugged him back into an embrace, kissed his shoulder. "Hey… Don't be like that." He felt Arthur shift in his arms, then watched as his petite boyfriend looked at him over his shoulder. Oh fuck… tears…

Francis sighed, rested his head against Arthur's back, between his shoulder blades and hugged him around his stomach. "They're just freckles, Arthur… Stop acting like they're so disgusting."

Arthur huffed a sigh, whimpered softly and said nothing. Francis was at a loss. How was he supposed to make this better now? He pressed a kiss to Arthur's back, nestled himself close to the smaller man in his arms. "I'm…. Sorry… there… Stop crying… I didn't mean it."

Arthur relaxed a bit, wiped his eyes on his hands. "You mean it? You're sorry? You won't do it again?"

"No. I won't do it again." He meant it. He hated making Arthur cry. It was always fun to tease him, but… he'd never thought this would be so… "I'm really sorry." He mumbled it, kissed the back of Arthur's neck softly and squeezed him around his middle.

"Can we just go to sleep?" Francis raised his eyebrows at that, shrugged and then nodded against the Brit's back. He uncurled his arms from Arthur's waist, plopped back onto the bed and sighed. He hadn't expected them just going to bed tonight but… If that's what Arthur wanted…

Arthur turned, scooted down to lie beside Francis, rested his head on the older man's shoulder, and rested his hand on his chest. Francis would never admit to being fond of these moments, when he and Arthur were just content in being close. They closed their eyes. Arthur, of course, was asleep in just a few moments. Francis, however, took a few minutes longer before he could reach the same state of slumber. Just like always.


End file.
